


UNTITLED

by vbligs



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Freeform, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 05:13:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13827216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vbligs/pseuds/vbligs
Summary: Poetry inspired by characters





	UNTITLED

It was the taste of him, that’s all you could remember. The gold teeth (metallic and cold, a blessing on those hot nights), sweet and bitter all at once. He was everything yet nothing. He was like smoke, half the time a ghost, half the time burning, bringing tears to your eyes. God, the things that man could do to you with his mouth. Late nights and early mornings. Fuck, you were too hangover for this. But there he was, walking back into the smoky motel, neon lights highlighting his every curve. Christ, you could die just looking at him. He’s a demigod, blessed with good looks and a body to match. The scars on his body, every inch nearly covered, like some otherworldly tattoo (you know it’s a death tally, but that doesn’t matter) pressed upon him. He watches you, eyes roaming, mapping the landscape of your body. Your body is the home he’s never seen. The curve of your chest when you breathe, the soft planes of your face, and his father may have said the sunset of the long-forgotten home is the most beautiful, but the bruised clouds on your body are a work of art. He reaches forward, hands pressed to the sheets and his eyes flashing (he’s always flashy, but in a good way) as he breaks you down and builds you up. His fingers, long and skilled (how many people has he killed with those fingers?) ghosting over your feet, calves, thighs, and then he’s lifting his body onto the bed, inch by inch. He’s barely there yet all at once, he’s laser focused on you, then something inside quivers; you become an earthquake. Crawling, crawling, the itsy bitsy spider, crouching like a wildcat (go team) and clawing, pulling and pushing, only gentle, your legs open, eyes hungry; a predator. Kissing your stomach, just above where you needed him – _fuck there, there it is!_ Then he’s lapping you up like a dying man in the desert, desperate for water; won’t you sate his thirst, honey? You look down, hardly there, sheets a mess in your claws and then you see his eyes, his eyes, oh _fuck,_ his goddamned _eyes._ They bore holes through you, taking in every moan, parted lips, biting, bruising, _fuck._ Those hungry eyes and those lips and his _tongue,_ God, you swore his entire mouth was absolute _magic,_ and your hands tangling in his hair (soft, like feathers in your fingers) rings flashing, gold teeth cold like ice on you, so hot, and you’re crying out for him, begging him, begging _please don’t stop_. He’s crooning, pulling words out of you with a flick of his tongue, the golden leopard, the disciple, the prophet. You’re keening, hips to lips, eyes shut tight, head thrown back and the wave hits you. You’re floating, a cloud carrying you away as he wraps you in bumped up arms, the scars like constellations, every star another kill. Nose in your neck, he whispers, _you smell delicious;_ you’re melting into his touch. You pull back, flip around, nose to nose; you press your lips to his and it’s a battle, armies clashing in your mouths as those gold fangs pull you apart. He tastes just like you, devouring every inch he can get to. The bruises on your thighs still healing from last night, but Lord knows you’ll find more in the morning. Lips locked and bodies joining, a powerful need in between your legs as you roll on top of him. Fingernails catching on his chest, you kiss every mark, then throw back your head and sigh as that moment grows longer, and longer still. You bounce, one two three, and the grunting and panting and cries pierce the hazy air (You wonder, but only for a split second, if you’ve woken the neighbors). Sometimes its silent, all you hear is your heartbeat, and the way your breathing catches when he hits that spot, _right there!_ The knots unravel and you both let out a noise, what noise? You can’t tell, but next thing you know you’re collapsed on him, snuggling up. You kiss every bite, every scratch, every bruise you’ve left on him tonight, eyes lazy and he smiles. His teeth are glinting in the light, the gold catching a bit of you in the reflection. No words, just breathing as you lie there, warm bodies pressed together. You inhale, it smells like sex (it always does) and it smells like him. Or does he smell like sex? You can never tell. It’s just another night, at least for him (does he even care?) but inside of you, in the deepest part of your heart, you wish it was more. More than the sex, more than the few scattered moments where he gives you the sort of affection that you crave. You want to be more than lovers, you love him you realize, as your eyes start to shut. You wish he loved you too, wish he’d cuddle you on cold nights, no, not sex, just a movie and a coffee or some hot cocoa. You push it down with a frown, you know it’s never going to happen. The moment is long gone, and its only a matter of time until you fall asleep (that’s when he leaves) on top of him, for the first time on top of him. You wonder if your sleeping body will give him pause, keep him there for another night, keep him there so you can see him in morning light. You’ve grown tired (you want to sleep so bad) of only seeing him at night, but that’s what your relationship is, nighttime sex and sometimes sleeping. All you can think about is the question you ask yourself every night (why won’t you just ask him to stay?) as you look as his soft sleeping face. He’s lying there underneath you, leaving you with only one question on your mind.

_How long will he stay this time?_


End file.
